


Suddenly Small

by Threshie



Series: De-aged Dean [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of a Case, Age Regression/De-Aging, De-Aged Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Wearing Castiel's Trenchcoat, Fanart, Feels, Fluff, Gen, Hugs, Kid Dean Winchester, Selectively Mute Dean Winchester, Witchcraft, fic contains art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 21:05:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19217524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Threshie/pseuds/Threshie
Summary: In a witch hunt case-gone-awry, Dean has de-aged into a little boy who doesn’t really talk. Castiel gives him his coat as a security blanket. (Features story artwork. ♥)





	Suddenly Small

Sam was back at the bunker casting the spell that let Dean and Castiel track their target. Dean had sighted the witch first and gone charging into the house. Cas arrived just in time to see her whirl around and throw the spell bowl, splashing the hunter with who knew what. Dean wasn’t fazed — he’d raised his gun loaded with witch killing bullets, and Cas heard two shots as the room filled with blinding light.

When the light died down, the witch lay on the floor…and Dean…oh, Dean. 

The tiny boy standing there on the floor could be no older than four or five. There was no mistaking the big green eyes and sprinkle of freckles across his nose. He hadn’t just reverted into a child, though — his hair was styled the same, his clothing had somehow become tiny along with him, and Cas could see the edge of the anti possession tattoo on his chest. Dean certainly hadn't had that at that age. 

Dean said nothing, just looked at the dead witch on the floor, the gun still clutched in his hand. It had not gotten any smaller the way his clothes had. 

After a moment he looked up at Cas, blinking. Cas stepped slowly over and knelt down, gently taking the gun from the kid’s hand. Sitting it aside, the angel turned back to the little boy and offered his hand. 

“I’ll have to drive,” Cas said, with a small smile. Dean didn’t answer, though, and he didn’t take his hand either. Cas wondered uneasily if Dean was still adult Dean in his head, or…an actual child. He was pretty sure the Dean he knew would be laughing about this, or at least making some nervous jokes.

Kid Dean just looked at him solemnly, though, his eyes sad.

“Dean,” Castiel said gently, leaning to catch the boy’s gaze. “Do you remember who I am?”

Dean still said nothing, but he gave the tiniest nod. Not regressed to the memories for when he was that age, then… Maybe being so small just reminded him of worse times. Cas recalled Sam once saying that Dean had become selectively mute for awhile after their mother died. He had been four years old.

A bit of movement caught his eye. Dean was hugging his little arms around himself, looking around the room like everything was closing in. Castiel felt sympathetic for him. Memories or not memories, if he wasn’t speaking then maybe he was upset.

Kids were comforted by blankets sometimes, like a hiding place where they felt safe. Cas slipped off his trench coat and draped it around the tiny boy’s shoulders, patting his back. Maybe it would be close enough. 

Really, Cas just wanted to scoop Dean up and get him away from the witch and this house. Once they got back to the bunker, he was sure that he and Sam could reverse the spell. Frightening little Dean was unacceptable, though. The boy already looked sad and uneasy. 

The trench coat security blanket worked for a moment — Dean hugged it around himself tight, the tail of the coat laid out on the floor long behind him. He looked even tinier in the middle of the bulky coat’s layers. Cas smiled and stood up, holding out a hand. 

“Come on, then. Let’s go home,” he said. 

Dean still didn’t take his hand. Instead he hurried a few steps closer the moment Cas stood up, alarm in his eyes. Dropping the coat, he reached his tiny arms up toward Castiel and pleaded with his eyes. ‘Hugs,’ those eyes said, and the angel felt a wave of longing for the same. Dean made little grabby motions with his hands, raising them a little higher. ‘Hugs,’ he pleaded silently again.

“Okay.” Dropping to one knee, Castiel wrapped the coat up around Dean’s shoulders again, then scooped him up in his arms. The kid hugged both arms tight around Cas’s neck, resting his head on the angel’s shoulder. He was so small and light in Cas’s arms, even with the bulk of the coat bundled around him.

Castiel shifted him to one arm and moved over to take the witch’s bowl. It still had a small amount of the liquid in it, and Sam might be able to figure out what the mixture had been with a sample. Cas collected Dean’s gun next and put it in his pocket, then turned to carry the little boy out to the car. 

“We’ll fix it, Dean,” Cas promised, patting his back. “Me and Sam. You want to see Sam?”

Dean quickly nodded against his shoulder, snuggling closer. Of course he wanted to see his brother. Tiny or full grown, some things about Dean never changed.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for reading my little ficlet here! I drew the artwork and had enough ideas for backstory for the pic that I wanted to write them down to share. I think kid Dean with the memories of adult Dean would probably be overwhelmed and less able to handle any sadness, and he'd revert to his selectively mute state like he did once before. Poor little guy. =( Comments and kudos always appreciated! ♥


End file.
